An antelope accoutred with chiseled bones to the chest,

Sidesteps through the hallway,

Blending its stripes with wall shadows cast by

Zebras in the cubicles, typing warfare from floor to ceiling,

Their hooves slicked with knives,

And Hornbills with glistening scissor wings waft through

Gunpowder papers and grenadier staplers,

And the Antelope sidesteps;

All in the jungle to serve the Lion who is

Afraid of the Hunter, all mask and whispered rifle.

All their arms to sleep when the Hunter falls,

But the shadowed Mandrill, who dreams above flickering lights and paper tiles,

Knows all their fingers long for the

Ever tranquil moments before the fearless Lion’s sprint,

All in the carpeted jungle, a circle,

All their eyes submerging into each others’.